People don’t come to the Wild Coast for game viewing, and for good reason. This is no game reserve. Instead of fences, we have natural barriers: rivers, cliffs and endless stretches of coastline. And instead of wide-open plains teeming with wildlife, we have wide-open beaches filled with little more than the sound of thundering hooves.
But that’s not to say it’s deserted. On the contrary, it’s home to hundreds of different species, from our feathered friends in the skies to the slicker, sleeker inhabitants of our oceans. While I can’t promise you’ll be formally introduced to every single one of them, I can guarantee that on trail, you’ll connect with nature almost as strongly as you connect with your horse.
But let’s not ignore the life we meet on trail either. Let’s rather take a moment to celebrate some of the little critters and larger creatures that traverse the Wild Coast, either on land, in the sky, or beneath the waves.
One of my favourite things about the Morgan Bay cliffs is its population of rock hyraxes, or dassies as they're locally known. These furry rodent-like creatures are difficult to spot when stationary, blending perfectly into the rocky cliff faces. But once moving, they seem to appear from every crack and crevice imaginable.
Despite their appearances, rock hyraxes have more in common with elephants than with guinea pigs. They even have tiny tusk-like teeth, just like their much larger relatives. So while we can’t offer the Big Five, you might still catch sight of one of their smallest cousins.
Dolphins frequent the Wild Coast year-round, and it’s rare to complete a trail without seeing at least a few. Sometimes we get lucky and watch huge pods playing in the surf; other times we just see the tips of their dorsal fins as they slice through the waves.
The best time for sightings is during the annual Sardine Run, when millions of sardines migrate northwards in the cold winter currents. This sudden abundance of fish attracts thousands of predators, including common and bottlenose dolphins.
As far as we’re concerned, it doesn’t seem to matter too much whether it’s a great sighting or a fleeting one; just knowing the dolphins are out always lifts the spirits.
Whales travel enormous distances along the South African coastline throughout the year, moving between the warm waters of Mozambique and the nutrient-rich Southern Ocean. They up their game a little in June, however, when both the humpbacks and southern right whales begin their annual migration to the breeding grounds of the Western Cape.
They don’t always come close to shore, but their sheer size means we’re often treated to impressive displays of tail slaps, breaches and the unmistakable plumes from their blowholes.
If you live in South Africa, there’s a fair chance you see monkeys as more of a nuisance than a novelty. But visitors find them adorable, especially the vervets with their expressive faces, silver-grey coats and playful energy.
The sight of a baby Vervet clinging tightly to its mother’s tummy is one I’ll never stop delighting in, no matter how many times I see it. It may not rival a lion sighting, but it still gives a tingle of excitement, especially when it's preceded by a long beach canter!
Ok, so your chances of seeing an otter are slim, but not completely impossible! I’ve seen a couple on trail, and it’s only taken me 20 years, so you never know your luck!
Despite being a freshwater species, the otters that live on the Wild Coast happily utilise their swimming skills in the ocean as well, often venturing down to the beach for a pre-dawn raid.
More often than not, we spot their distinctive webbed footprints rather than the animals themselves, just reminding us that there’s more life out there than we necessarily witness.
We may not have larger antelope like the kudu or eland roaming the Wild Coast, but we do have some of the smallest. The blue duiker stands just 40 centimetres tall and lives in the undergrowth of our coastal forests. In fact, one couple has made the Butterfly Reserve in Kei Mouth their home, meaning we occasionally catch a glimpse of them darting for cover as we ride to the beach.
Their slightly larger cousin, the common or grey duiker, also pops out from behind a bush from time to time, startling the guides almost as much as the horses!
Writing this has reminded me just how much life actually exists on the Wild Coast. I haven’t even got around to mentioning the bushbuck, bush pigs, or baboons!
I know people come here for the horses, the beaches and the freedom of riding through untamed landscapes, but somewhere along the way, the wildlife becomes part of the experience too. Not in the dramatic, checklist-driven way of a safari, but in quieter moments that remind you that you’re a part of something bigger.
